


Games

by DenDenMonMon



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-03-08 04:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenDenMonMon/pseuds/DenDenMonMon
Summary: Playing around with fire gets you burned.





	1. One

**Games**

**Summary:** Playing around with fire gets you burned.

_Hello!_

_Welcome to my first story ever posted here._

_I’ve been a fanfic writer for about 15 years. I’ve dedicated a decade and a half to another fandom and, literally, out of the blue, this Trixya story started to write itself in my head. I just had to let it out._

_Please, help me out by commenting, reviewing, or whatever it is done on this app that my grandma brain is still trying to figure out. I could use all the help I can get._

_Enjoy!_

 

**Chapter 1**

“Hey, Brian,” I say in a whisper, my voice almost unrecognizable to my own ears.

As expected, he doesn’t even look at me. I only get to stare at the side of his bald head as he looks down. His fingers rapidly tap on the screen of his phone, texting away at an unbelievable speed.

I try it one more time, his name leaves my lips as my hand slightly touches his knee. What comes next is completely unintended. My mouth makes that little buzzing sound that’s usually added in the post-production stage of the show. Out of fun, and with a slight smile forming on my lips, I do it again. My finger pokes his thigh accompanied by the buzzing effect, over and over.

Exasperated, he finally lifts his head and looks at me. His hands still holding the phone right in front of him. “What?!”

“Do you think we are getting kidnapped?”

He stares at me for a second, the amused look on my face probably throwing him off.

“You are such an idiot,” he finally replies and returns his attention to the device.

This time is the palm of my hand the one that lands fully flat on his thigh. “No, I’m serious. Think about it. It’s totally plausible.” I try to keep my voice still low as my eyes shift from his face to the driver in the front seat.

His attention is finally on me. The remainings of makeup outline his lips, in the perfect oversized shape he always draws them in. Traces of glitter shine against his cheeks, and dark circles surround his eyes. To some it may not be a very attractive sight, but all I see is beauty. Beauty, and hard work, and dedication.

“What are you even saying?” Disbelief is clear on his features as he ultimately puts the phone down, even if it’s just for a second. “Are you really that bored right now?”

I shrug and look out the window, staring at the seemingly moving buildings right besides us. “You know how my mind works.” Excitement fills me as I bounce in my seat to look at him again. “And you know how much I love a possibly horrible outcome.”

We have played this game before, and he’s always in to carry on with my twisted fantasies. Something feels odd this time, though. I can feel he’s not really here. His body may be riding this Uber with me, but his mind is somewhere else.

“Come on, indulge me,” I practically beg, knowing fully well that he’s not going to talk about what’s bothering him until he’s ready. And, to be honest, I am rather bored. “What would you do if I got kidnapped?”

“Cry,” he says in a heartbeat, doesn’t even think about it. After a second he adds a small ‘probably’ to try and make it less obvious.

My laugh sounds a lot louder than I intended but, yet again, it never really asks for my permission to come out. “No, you wouldn’t.” I push him playfully, trying to discredit his confession, just like he did a moment ago.

He rolls his eyes. “What would you expect me to do? Run the entire investigation as if I were the FBI?”

“At the very least!” My tongue is quicker than my brain and my answer comes without a thought.

So many years sitting next to this beautiful character have synchronized our minds, we are programmed to have a comeback ready for every line that comes out of the other’s mouth. It’s both a blessing and a curse. Luckily, this time, it worked like a charm, because I hear his high pitch laughter not even a second later.

“Can you picture that?” He asks in disbelief, his mood noticeably lighter. “Me, an FBI director.”

“You would look amazing with a badge, though.” My index finger points his way as the thought sinks in.

“Oh, honey, and you should see me in handcuffs!”

My hands flail everywhere as fits of uncontrollable laughter take over me, the moves appearing a lot more exaggerated inside the small car. My feet hit the floor rapidly and I can see the driver staring at us through the rearview mirror. I don’t care. The dark cloud has been removed from above Brian’s head and, honestly, that’s all I have been aiming for these last twenty minutes.

He laughs and screams and I can see the wheels inside his head turning as he takes the idea even further.

“Don’t worry, citizens, FBI Barbie is on the case.” His hands land on his hips as he talks to imaginary cameras.

“You’ll be… you could be solving fashion crimes!” I manage to get out between laughs and giggles.

“You are under arrest for wearing…”

His hands go up to form a fake gun and he points it at the air between us. Then he says something about lace fronts, I think I hear something about dirty stockings too but, honestly, the lines he’s coming up with for this script are not what matters now. It’s the whole act. And what’s even funnier is that it is Brian the one doing this whole bit, not Trixie. There is no big wig to support his skit, no makeup to hide behind of, no dress he can hold as he interprets this plastique female cop. It’s just a bald man, with an extremely loud voice, dressed in a quilt like shirt, joking around in the back of this modern version of a cab.

Once again, I let the reality of our relationship hit me like a ton of bricks. I love this person. I love him and I love her. All of what this human represents, I love. There’s nothing I don’t like. And, as many times before, I say it aloud. Just like I’ve confessed to him time and time again, the words simply express themselves in the most sincere way.

“God, I love you.”

As if on cue, the car stops, his laughter stops, my heart stops.

He looks at me with a searching stare, a million questions dancing in those deep brown eyes of his.

The phone vibrates on the couch, he reads the words on the lockscreen before looking out the window. The outline of his house is recognizable in the darkness. The front light goes on and he throws the phone back to the seat.

“Do you mind if I crash at your place for a while?”

Drowning in confusion, I shake my head no. Without hesitation he tells the driver there has been a change of plans and gives him my address as the new destination.

“Thanks,” he says as he tries to get a hold of my knee.

“Don’t touch me.”

The car starts moving again and I still have no fucking clue of what the hell just happened.


	2. Two

***Chapter notes***  
_Guys, I wish I had enough words to thank you for all the love and support you have given to this story. This is my first attempt to write something outside of my regular fandom, so I was scared af, but you have made me feel nothing but welcomed._  
_The plan is to update every Friday, buuuuuut this is DragCon weekend. I’m going to be a little preoccupied with the queens so, here, have this chapter a day earlier._  
_Enjoy!_  
_And thank you so much for reading._

**Chapter 2**

“Why do you always do that with your tongue?”

I hear Brian’s voice come from behind me as I push in the key to my apartment. The knob obeys to my command, unlocking the door, and I can twist it to let us in.

“Do what?” I ask not really looking at him. I throw the keyring on the table by door and find the switch to turn the lights on.

“You always sigh like this…”

Inevitably, I have to turn to him to witness his demonstration. He exhales loudly and his shoulders fall dramatically, his head is tilted back exaggeratedly and his tongue comes half of the way out. Those are the movements of a tired person, an exhausted human that is simply fed up with everything in life. It’s most likely the scene I just played as soon as I reached my front door. Because that’s how I feel pretty much the whole time. The career that I’ve chosen doesn’t allow me to portray that freely, though. My true feelings and thoughts must be somehow suppressed until the moment I reach the confinements of my own home.

Brian has seen some of that side, that dark and depressive side, but only bits and pieces that I let out unintendedly. He has become such a strong presence in my life that all the walls I’ve built around me, to guard and protect myself, seem to crumble when he’s near. It’s exciting in a way. Knowing that your mind and body are comfortable enough to show the real you to a person, is something that not a lot of people get to experience. Yet, at the same time, the real me can be more than a handful, and, even after all these years, I still need to figure out if he could handle me. All of me.

With a roll of my eyes, I try to land back in the reality of our conversation. “That is not me, at all.”

“Oh, but it is,” he says right away, pretending I didn’t just space out for God knows how long. “You always seem so tired.”

“Because I am, bitch!” My answer is honest but, the way my voice goes up an octave, makes it sound like a joke, so I laugh. “I’m always tired. Tired of living.”

His face turns serious. His arms cross on top of his chest. “You know I don’t like it when you joke about that.”

“What? My deathwish? You know I’m not joking.” The small chuckles that accompany my speech contradict that last statement, I’m aware of that, yet I can’t help it. Talking about this topic is never easy, it makes me nervous, and I laugh when I’m nervous.

“Bri…”

I put my hand up to stop him before he can continue. Oh, I wish I was wearing my tiny hands. This moment would have been oh so much funnier.

“You came here to interrogate me or are we gonna fuck?”

His eyes grow wide open, and his hands fall to his sides. His mouth opens forming a misshaped O as realization starts to come to him. I can’t hold it any longer and I burst out laughing. The iconic Trixie scream comes out, which lets me know we are back on safe ground.

We make our way inside my poorly lit apartment. He will always complain about my lack of furniture or the little attention I pay to the decoration. My eternal excuse is that I’m never home. Why should I dedicate so much time to make these four walls look pretty, if I spend not even half of my time here?

Even when he doesn’t like this place, he moves like a fish in the water. He makes his way to the kitchen and opens the fridge. The complaints that follow I had actually expected. He knows there’s nothing in there. We have talked about this many times in the past. There are jokes being made about my ability to spend a full day without food and my body never getting hungry. It’s not an ability that I am proud of, at least not anymore, because at some point it used to be one of my biggest gifts. Behind those jokes there’s always some truth to it. Just like right now, as he rants about how I can run on coffee fumes and Red Bulls, as he goes on and on about how my body should be studied to then sell the formula to never gain weight, I know he’s jealous.

“How do you even do it?” He asks rhetorically as he reenters the living room.

“Drugs,” I say matter-of-factly.

He looks at me for a second before he bursts out laughing.

Life isn't fair. Not at all. And it shows in mundane things as this one. As Brian constantly battling his weight and killing himself at the gym, just so he can enjoy the food that he likes, versus me, eating nothing but garbage and maintaining a perfectly fit body. It’s simply not fair.

“Do you want to order something?” I offer to kind of makeup for the fact that my refrigerator is completely empty.

He throws himself on the couch and takes his phone out. “Ugh! It’s so late, I don’t know if anything is going to be open at this hour.”

Whining and complaining he surfs through his many food apps until he finds a pizza place that delivers after hours. He asks me if I want anything and I declined with a disgusted face. Of course I don’t want anything. The Red Bull in my hand is more than enough dinner for me, and probably part of my breakfast.

“So…” I start as I sit next to him, my legs safety tucked underneath me, and my flip flops abandoned by the foot of the couch. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” My hand goes up to twist my hair around my finger. Hair that is not there since I am not wearing any wig.

“Is it okay if I don’t?”

My head nods respectfully. I have never and will never push him to talk about something that makes him uncomfortable, as much as I am dying to know, and no matter how badly I wanna help him. For now I need to think of a distraction so we don’t have to wait in silence for his vegetarian pizza to get here.

“Wanna play truth or dare?”

He eyes me from the side, a raised eyebrow, and that kinky smirk let me know I’ve gained his full attention.


	3. Three

**Chapter 3**

 

The naughty smile stays on his lips as Brian crosses one leg on top of the other.

“Girl, I already know everything about you, what ‘truths’ can you possibly expose?” He makes air quotes with his fingers, and rightfully so. He is one-hundred percent right. There’s pretty much nothing I can reveal to him after all these years. “Plus, all your dares will probably involve me being completely naked.”

The phrase is not even done leaving his mouth when my legs are already kicking the air as I laugh hysterically. There is just something about the way he says things, so casually, so cool, yet so full of meaning. Everything that comes out of his mouth sends me into endless fits of laughter that are beyond my control.

Maureen suddenly takes over, forcing my lips to twist as I look at him from the side. “You know all of my diseases, mother.”

His laughter boombs against the walls of my apartment for only a second before he goes back to serious. A thing that I am more than used to by now.

“Come on!” My leg stretches and I poke his ribs with my big toe. “Look, as a symbol of my good nature, I’ll let you start.”

There is a deep sigh. A sign of him giving in. I can pretty much see how he’s mentally preparing himself to deal with whatever twisted ideas I have in mind. “Okay, okay. There really is something I need you to tell me.”

“But I’m supposed to pick truth or dare!” I remind him.

“No, bitch, I need the truth on this.”

A small scream leaves my mouth, it’s short and full of shock. Pretty much the same reaction I have for all his one-liners. He’s just so funny, and clever, and intelligent. Okay, stop! I can’t allow my brain to keep following that path every time he speaks. Instead of going straight into my rabbit hole of adoration, I think I pronounce something that encourages him to ask whatever he so desperately wants to know.

“Why don’t you take better care of this place?” His finger makes small circles in the air, referring to my apartment.

“It all started back in 1932…”

“No, no. Don’t do that voice,” he stops me mid-sentence. I don’t even realize I’m switching personalities until he brings it up. “I’m serious. Wouldn’t you prefer to come back to a nice apartment?”

I throw my head back and let out a loud groan. “I’m just… I’m - I’m never here,” I say as a way of explanation. One that he doesn’t seem to buy. I run my fingers through my hair, pulling it up in hopes to relieve some of the frustration. “Do you want the truth-truth or whatever I tell myself so I can sleep at night?” A small chuckle comes out with my words, trying to somehow take the seriousness out of the topic. Trying being the keyword here.

“This is fucking truth or dare, bitch. Of course I want the truth-truth.” A piece of gum travels from one side of his mouth to the other as he speaks. Has he been chewing on that this whole time? I can’t tell anymore. Maybe I’ve become so used to see the small pink dot inside his mouth, by now it’s completely unrecognizable to my eyes.

My lips twist side to side. My face contorts in every direction as the connection between my mouth and my brain short-circuits.

There is no easy way for me to explain this, so I just go straight for the truth and hope he gets it.

“Okay, so, in the program,” I drawl the last word, almost as to verify he understands what that means. He simply nods his head, egging me to continue. “In the program, one of the - uh…” I know what I want to say, it’s right there in my mind, jumping the many ropes and branches of the jungle that is my brain, but I can’t catch the right words to articulate it. My hands probably look stupid right now as they do their best to express what my mouth can’t. “One of the, let’s say milestones of recovery, is when you turn your house into a hotel room.”

The look on his face has a million questions written all over it. Not in a judging matter, though. Never. He’s interested. He wants to know more about the complicated reality and implications of being in a 12 Steps program.

“It’s, like, you know...  yeah.” That can’t possibly be the right way to explain it. I inhale deeply and hold the air in my mouth, inflating my cheeks, a fruitless effort to give my mind time to process my thoughts.

“I get it,” he says in a voice reflecting nothing but actual understanding. His hand reaches out and touches my knee. Even if it is just for a second, the burning feeling his fingers leave on my skin is practically unbearable. “I do, I really do,” he assures me. “It means that you are too busy living your real life and have no time to worry about superficial things like decoration.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Exactly!” My enthusiasm is clear as I agree with him. He does get it. “It’s all about-about being out there, you know? Always go-go-go.” My fingers snap to the rhythm of my last words to emphasize them.

A nod of his head closes the subject. “Makes sense. Now, it’s your turn. I choose truth.”

“Oh, but I want to see you naked!” I fake disappointment, or at least I think I’m faking it, as I bring up his earlier comment.

Just like my maybe-fake disappointment, he allows a facade of arrogance to shine bright. “You always do.”

There’s no use for me to deny such an obvious statement. So I vocaly agree with him before an actual question hits me. “Okay, okay. Be honest,” I warn him by stretching my arm and putting my index finger up. “That night in my room, in Boston, why did you reject me?”

It probably takes him by surprise, or maybe he’s deciding if, just like I did earlier, if he should tell me nothing but the truth or go back to the same age excuse he’s been relying on for years. Either way, he stays silent for a moment. His expression is completely blank, not moving a muscle on his face other than his jaw going softly up and down against the gum.

Just when I feel he’s ready to speak, and his mouth finally opens, the doorbell rings.


	4. Four

***Chapter notes***  
_I know I said I was posting every weekend but, this story is truly writing itself so there is no reason to keep you guys waiting. Because of that same reason, that the story is not even allowing me to have any control over it, is that I’m in desperate need of a beta. If you, or someone you know, have the time and energy to help me out, please, let me know. You can find me pretty much everywhere as DenDenMonMon.  
Thanks in advance!_

**Chapter 4**

My mind travels a hundred miles per hour, trying to figure out who could be at my front door so late. I don’t have any tricks coming over tonight, I don’t think. My friends know better than to just stop by, again, since I’m always working, our gatherings usually need to be scheduled, and most likely rescheduled, for months before they actually happen.

“Ooh, my pizza is here.” Just like that Brian solves the mystery of the late night visitor and gets off the couch, practically running to the front door to get his food.

It takes him a while to come back. I can hear his voice but I can’t really understand what he’s saying. One thing I do know, he is using his flirty tone, which is not very nice to hear if it’s not directed to you. Or that’s just me, I guess.

He takes a seat right next to me and places the individual pizza directly in front of us. Steam comes out as soon as he flips the lid open. The miniature circle has been divided in four triangles, one smaller than the next, yet they are loaded with vegetables. It actually does look good. There are greens and reds placed as toppings, making the pizza seem festive and colorful. It doesn’t smell bad either, I can tell as much as he brings a slice to his mouth. One more time he offers to share but I decline, a half full can still in my hand.

I allow him to savor his food, sipping on my warm drink. It’s disgusting. But he’s enjoying his carbs and I will not be the reason why he stops doing so.

Out of the blue, my mouth gets a mind of its own. “Can I have a bite?”

“Sure!” He reaches over, ready to hand me a slice when I stop him.

“No, I want a bite of that one.” I point to the piece in his hands. And he understands is not really the meal that I’m craving, I simply wanna share with him something he is liking so intensely. “Let’s bite it at the same time.”

Surprisingly, he wordlessly accepts. The -by now- deformed triangle is placed between us and he leans closer, waiting for me to follow suit. Our eyes count to three and, in perfect sync, we both reach for the food. I make sure to stick my tongue out just in time, and manage to lick his bottom lip right before he moves away.

He let’s out a muffled scream, as he tries to cover his full mouth with his hand. “I knew you were gonna do that. I knew it!”

“Now, come here and give me a proper kiss.” I purse my lips and scoot closer to him. My eyes are halfway open in anticipation.

“No! Get away from me. You are gonna try to push food into my mouth, as always.”

“Don’t you want me to tap at the door of your love?”

The memories that are carried by that phrase hit us both at the same time. We start laughing so loud that I’m sure we are waking up all my neighbors. These little moments of happiness are way more valuable than a pissed old lady who can’t go back to her REM cycle. So I laugh, I laugh like I can only do when I’m with him. He’s just so effortlessly funny that I can’t help but kick and punch the air in a stage of total euphoria. Food is literally flying everywhere, which forces me to swallow my over-chewed piece of pizza.

“See? Even now you are rejecting me.” My fake crying is worthy of… not a single award, really. I jump between laughing and crying as I dramatically lament his lack of love for me. “Which brings me back to my previous inquiring, if we may.”

The empty box is pushed away on the coffee table with a heavy sigh. “We have talked about this before,” he reminds me. “You know it would affect so much of our work, our careers…” He starts listing reasons with his fingers, same reasons that I don’t give a single fuck about.

I have to stop his lame attempt of excuse. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” I look at him, sitting so close to me, yet so far away. “Sure, we have discussed it many times in the past, in a professional matter. How it could ruin our business ventures, our friendship and whatnot but, going back to my original question, back then, we didn’t have any of those, really.” I stop for a moment, what I think has always been the actual reason playing at the tip of my tongue. “You know, you can just say you don’t find me attractive. It’s a rather valid reason.”

There’s a moment of silence. I watch him chew on a new piece of gum when, in reality, his mind is probably chewing on many thoughts, deciding which one to let out.

“Okay,” he finally speaks. “Back then, I… I guess I didn’t see you like that.”

“Like what?” My insecurities make me push the subject, and, almost immediately, those same insecurities make me want to run away from there as quickly as possible. So, as it is my modus operandi, I make a joke. “You are telling me, you don’t desire all of this?”

My hands run down my body in the sexiest way I can muster while being gross at the same time. My leg goes up in the air, as high as it can go without previous warm up. One of my hands finds my crotch and just then I remember I’m not tucked. The surprise is pleasant but, again, I am no stranger to pleasure.

He’s laughing loudly next to me. He knows I’m joking, nonetheless, not even deep down, but skin deep, I can see he also has a bunch of ‘what if’s going through his mind. And like the anarchist that I am, I wanna see how far I can go with this.

I direct my leg to go down and land across his lap, with an easy jump I find myself straddling him. Our faces are inches apart. I look deep into his eyes and, amongst the obvious shock and confusion, I can almost say I see something close to lust.

“So…” I try to speak, my breath getting caught in my throat. “About that kiss?”

The question is left hanging in the air for less than a second because, soon after, my eyes close by themselves as his lips crash against mine.

***End Notes***  
_Please, let me know what you think. You have no idea how much your words mean to us writers._


	5. Five

***Chapter Notes***   
_ I am now posting simultaneously on Wattpad and ao3, so please expect a new chapter every Tuesday and Friday.  _   
_ Thank you so so much for reading and commenting! _

**Chapter 5**

The kiss lasts merely a moment. Brian gives me the smallest of pecks before disconnecting our lips.

“I dare you to give me a proper kiss.” My voice is unintendedly laced with want and desire.

It’s really hard to read him. His breathing is heavier than usual, I can see his chest going up and down at an uneven pace. His eyes seem to have trouble focusing on anything in specific, they frantically move from my lips to my eyes, to an empty spot behind me that may or may not have the answer to his confusion.

He shakes his head slightly. “It’s my turn,” he says in a raspy tone.

“Fuck that game. I want you to kiss me. I want you to fuck me, for that matter, but I can settle for a kiss right now.”

As if a bucket of cold water had fallen on his head, he seems to be instantly taken out of our sensual trance by my words. Very easily he pretty much lifts me by the arms and places me, once again, on the seat next to him. 

“Okay, now, like, really, why is that?”

“Why is what?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah, I mean, like, you are always saying how much you wanna fuck me, or whatever, why?” The look on his face is pretty much as lost as mine, I’m sure. It’s almost as if the question is dawning down on him as he’s pronouncing it.

I’m still not sure if he’s being serious but I still prefer to take the easy way out. “Oh, Momma, if you are fishing for compliments…”

“No,” he interrupts me. “It’s not like that.”

“Nonono. I’m more than willing to make them rain on you, darling,” I assure him.

There is a small sigh, an indicator that he’s not really in the mood to deal with this. He is the one that opened the topic, though. I was doing just fine with the stupid game we had started. There was no need for him to turn it into something real. Yet, if he really wants to, we can totally talk about it. I’ve said it many times, I’m not one to lie. I will always have a straight answer for any straight question. It’s just taking me a minute to figure out if he’s really trying to get a truthful explanation from me, or if this is just his bad mood making his words come out in a mix of emotions.

“Ugh. Fine.” I can virtually see the wheels in his head spinning, trying to come up with the ideal group of words, strung in the correct order, to express what he’s needing to know. “Like, you have been umm around a lot…”

“Yeah, I’m a slut, continue.”

He looks at me with his head tilted to the side, knowing the clarification was not necessary.

“I’ve said it before: you are very fluid with your sexuality. Like, it’s not hard to turn you on…”

“But once it gets hard…” One more time, my mouth gets a life of its own and starts spitting bad jokes without my permission.

That’s it for him. He gets up, throwing his arms in the air. “You know what, never mind. It’s impossible to talk to you.”

I stand on the couch, stepping on cushions, trying to catch up with him. Only by standing on the armrest is that I manage to get a hold of his arm to stop him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just very confused. My mind doesn’t work properly when I don’t know what’s going on. Please, please, continue.”

It takes a moment but he turns to me. I look down at him, maybe for the first time ever, pretty much begging him to sit back down. And he does.

“Are you really attracted to me?”

“Yes.”

Finally, a straight question, deserving of the straight answer I promised.

“But, are you still now? Or is it a joke that has been going on for too long?”

Now, that is something that I hadn’t thought about. By this point I am so used to the idea of having to mascarade my feelings for him, throwing jokes and dirty innuendos on top of them, that now I have no idea what are the real feelings, what are funny one liners, and whatever is in between. 

Apparently, I’m taking too long to respond because he runs a hand across his forehead. “You know, you just called yourself a slut. I feel, like, umm, you are always so willing to have sex, no matter the person, I feel like I can’t take your, umm, invitations seriously.”

“Oh, they are serious, Momma,” I assure him. “Okay, yeah, maybe, yeah, there may be some kind of  joke-like, double meaning sentences, but between the whole ‘funny-haha’ it’s a big: I will totally do it if you are down for it. In a way, yeah, I have a tendency to cling onto what I can’t have, and you completely desexuaized me since the first moment we met. You put me in this friend concept where I…”

“I did not, did not, friend-zone you. Never.”

His interruption is not welcomed, not when it’s a lie.

“Oh, girl, come on.”

“I’m serious! There was a part of me that never thought you would take me seriously. You always talk about guys being, like, disposable. That’s not what I want. We have completely different ideas of what a relationship is. We could never work, so I never even went down that road.”

As much sense as his explanation can make, there are just so many things in there that are not true.

“First of all, I thought it was all about fucking, I didn’t know we were talking about actual relationships. But, I guess, that’s the main premise of your whole argument. You want a house and a husband and all that shitty love story, I don’t. I don’t believe in love, at least not in that way. I have no issues telling you that I had a very profound sexual attraction for you. I can say straight to your face that I have jacked off to mental images of you, many a-times, darling. But have never, not once, pictured ourselves, thirty years from now, holding hands, sitting in a porch, watching kids play.”

“You would probably be throwing rocks at them.” Now that is an interruption I can get behind! The sensitive topic is put aside, even if it’s just for half a second, as we laugh wholeheartedly. 

One of my many voices takes over as I support this new fantasy. “Get off my lawn, you mother fuckers.”

He submerges himself in thought for a moment before landing back in the reality of the latent subject. “So you are still attracted to me?”

My answer comes out without hesitation. “Oh, yeah.”

“If I tell you right here, right now, let’s do it; would you?”

“One hundred percent.” As honest as I can be, I also need to know his side of this whole ordeal. “Are you asking, though?”


	6. Six

**Chapter 6**

Brian knows better than to lie to me, and not in a way meaning there could be consequences if he does. It’s more of an unspoken honesty agreement we have had since our friendship started. I never lie, ever. Everything that comes out of my mouth is truthful and, if by any means it isn’t, it comes from a place of irony or humor. He reflects off of my honesty and tries to do the same as much as possible. With that thought is that I patiently wait for him to answer my question.

“Not yet,” he finally speaks. “But I know I will, some day.”

His words make absolutely no sense. I’m trying to know if he’s asking me to have sex with him and he says: not yet. What does that even mean? I’m not sure if I just think it or if I actually voice the question, but he then gives me an explanation.

“It’s gonna sound horrible, and I feel like a horrible, horrible person for thinking like this but…” there is yet another pause in his speech. I have to once again try to figure out where he’s going with all of this. My mind is going a million miles per hour, thinking of all the possible outcomes, and none of them is a nice one, and, none of them is even close to what comes out of his mouth next.

“I know you will always be, like, there, you know? Like, if at some point I feel lonely, I know I can pick up the phone, call you, and you’ll be there. Like, I know for sure, I have you there. I don’t want to use that card until I have absolutely exhausted all my other possibilities.”

I don’t know if his words don’t really process in my brain or if it’s my heart the one that refuses to accept this confession, either way, I can feel the beginnings of a panic attack taking over my body.

“So, I’m your… back-up?”

He shakes his head, turning in his seat to face me completely. “No, it’s not like that. It just that I…”

“No, I get it,” I interrupt him. I don’t wanna hear a made up reason when everything just became extremely clear to me. “I’m your safety net. Something to fall back on. Something you put on the top shelf, knowing it will always be there for when you need it. You know, I have been used many times in my life, used and abused.” I have to stop myself, that’s a lie. “No, never abused. Or, I don’t know, maybe. I’ve searched for love, for carnal satisfaction, for escapes from my reality, and I have never cared about the price. I always knew it had a cost, and I was willing to pay; so much so that it almost cost me my sanity.” Tears want to come out, cutting my speech and making it hard to breath. “But I thought you were different. You are… were different! You never asked for anything in return. Your love was given to me freely and unconditionally. Hearing you say that I’m literally your last option, just… I don’t even know.”

Something in me tells me to get out of there, to walk away from this conversation, from this feeling, from him. I stand up, but my feet won’t move. I can’t make them take the necessary steps to disengage myself from this situation. Surely, I have always found a certain pleasure in pain, both physical and emotional, but this is a level that I had never experienced before.

There’s a burning feeling on my skin. I shake violently, trying to get rid of the horrible sensation. Just then do I notice it’s Brian’s hand, securely wrapped around my arm. He probably notices I’m ready to run so this is his way to stop me.

My eyes are glued to his fingers and the tight grip they have on me, the burning growing by the second. My vision travels up his arm to find his face. His eyes are red and watery.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. My-my… my words came out twisted.”

With a fast move I manage to make him let go. “No, they didn’t. They were loud and clear.” 

The first tear that runs down, I can’t really tell if it’s from his eye or mine, most likely the rivers start flowing simultaneously. 

“Brian,” the word leaves his lips in a desperate way, almost begging. “Katya.”

That’s it, hearing my name in such a tone, as such a plea, becomes my undoing. Before I know it, my knees give out and I find myself slowly going down. Sobs are generated at the bottom of my lungs, burning their way up my throat, and come out more like a scream.

“You… I… I think you should go.”

Even when I’m looking at the ground, I sense more than see how he hunches right in front of me to be at my eye level. His hands take a hold of each of my shoulders and he shakes me until I finally look up at him.

“Bitch, don’t. Don’t do this to me.” His eyes are wild. He’s desperate, lost. “Please, understand. I love you. You know that, right? You know that I love you! My love for you is the realest thing I have ever felt. That’s not fake. That’s not… conditioned, or whatever the fuck you called it. But being with you could mean losing you.”

“Losing me? What the fuck are you talking about?” My frustration and confusion are mixing, and that is not a good combination. “There’s nothing between us and you are already breaking us up? That’s some next level shit, let me tell ya.”

With his knees still bent, he stretches his neck to stare right into my eyes. “Have you ever been in a relationship that didn’t end?”

I have no answer to that. All I can do is move away from his touch. The tingling on my skin is unbearable by this point.

His soft voice comes from behind me. “I just don’t want anything to change between us.”

My head shakes and a sarcastic huff accompanies the action, fresh new tears falling down my cheeks to the movement. “It just did.” I turn to him, not caring if all he can see is a broken version of myself. “Seriously, you should go now.”

We walk the short distance to the front door and I open it. He walks right through it. His head is hanging low as he stands in the hallway. His eyes pierce mine as I close the door in his face.


	7. Seven

**Chapter 7**

All my emotions hit me at once. I’m not even sure what I’m feeling.

Do I feel betrayed?

Do I feel used?

Do I feel deceived?

My head is pressed against the door. The cool material feels pretty good against my sweaty forehead. Too many thoughts are running through my mind and too many feelings are invading my senses. I am fully aware that my breathing has become ragged. I am not completely sure what the fuck just happened. My mind is giving me pieces of the last hour, fragments of reality mixed with my own imagination that I can’t set apart. All I know is that I need them to go away.

Trying to get rid of those thoughts, I hit my head against the door. One time unintentionally. The numbness that follows is extremely welcomed. I do it again, enjoying how the physical pain overtakes the emotional. Then I go for a third, harder this time, just to follow the machochist pattern.

Right after the loud bang, I’m being pushed back, the door swinging open roughly. I see him on the other side of the threshold. One of Brian’s hands hold the knob, the other forms a tight fist, as he angrily puffs air out from his nose. 

In a fast move he’s standing right in front of me. As I’m comparing him with a rotted cartoon, I don’t even see him walking towards me. His hands are by now holding my face, forcing me to look straight into his eyes. Eyes that seem to be holding on to mine for dear life. They are surely a literal window of the chaos raigning in his mind. There’s pain and anger, and sadness, and many other conflicts that I don’t know how to identify.

“If you are going to hurt me just remember, this is my place, I know where all the knives are.”

“Shut up, you idiot.”

The small gap separating us is closed in a fraction of a second. His lips take over mine and my eyes close to the touch. In the midst of the surprise and shock, I feel his hands sliding down from face, finding my waist. Having a life of their own, my arms go up and wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer to me. I can feel every inch of his body pressed against mine. The heath exuding from his skin is tickling my naked arms as we become a tangled mess of limps. Even when I can feel him whole, at the same time, there’s nothing else that fully registers in my brain but his lips devouring mine. The kiss is not soft or gentle, it’s not innocent or playful, he is claiming my mouth as his own, he’s claiming me as his. 

His tongue doesn’t even ask permission, he roughly pushes it between my lips, and runs it against my teeth, before it finds mine.

I feel so powerless, melting under his touch. But, as much as I like this notion of being dominated. My head is screaming at me that this doesn’t make any sense. The inner battle against myself starts. Body and flesh against reasoning and logic. 

On one hand, my body is turning into butter. My mouth is attacking his with complete abandon. I fully enjoy the way his nails dig into my skin through the shirt. On the other hand, I can feel my feet planted to the ground, preventing him from pushing me on top of the couch. My mind is pointing out all the reasons why this is wrong, all the ways this can absolutely fuck up our lives.

This is literally all I’ve wanted for years and years, to simply have him all to myself, to at least have him acknowledging me as anything other than a friend. Now that it is happening, now that I can sense him wanting me as much as I’ve wanted him, it feels all types of wrong.

My body wins, it always does. Because, at the end of the day, I’m nothing but a slut. 

Air is lacking and that is the only reason why our lips part. Our foreheads press against each other as we heavily try to catch our breath. Lazily, and with his eyes still closed, he chases after my lips yet again, giving me a sweet peck with a small smile. Something at the bottom of my stomach sets on fire. The burning is stupidly annoying and distracting. Is this what people mean when they talk about butterflies in their stomach? This is more like bats from hell causing havoc in my intestine. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice lands me back into reality. “I didn’t mean to be a stupid cunt.”

His arms snake around my torso and he pulls me into a tight hug, and I let him. He kisses me on the neck. It’s quick and innocent. 

“Ask me truth or dare?” He asks me, pushing me to stand a few steps away from him.

There is no way that shock is not written all over my face. I’m sure my lower jaw is slightly hanging and my eyes are wide opened. “Bitch, we are completely over that stupid game.”

“No no no no, please, ask me truth or dare?”

“But I have nothing to ask you, right now. I have no fucking idea what is going on.”

“Okay, I pick truth. Come.” He sits down on the couch, pulling my arm so I can do the same. “The truth is that I’m scared.”

Just the mention of fear gains him my full attention. “Scared of what?”

He looks down at his hands, his fingers interwinding and untangling at an imaginary rhythm. “Of not being good enough for you.” My finger goes up to protests but he stops me. “Hear me out, first. You are so hot, so so hot. You are always telling stories about your hooking days, how proud you are of your seductive skills, and how much you enjoy having sex. I’m not like that. It’s not like I’m a fucking virgin but, I don't have your… experience. I could never be good enough for you. I think that’s the main reason why I never allowed anything to happen between us, what if you don’t like it? What if I’m not good enough for you… in bed?”

“Brian.” His name leaves my lips barely above a whisper. “I dare you to fuck me.”


	8. Eight

**Chapter 8**

Brian looks at me with his eyes wide open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” My reply comes out too fast. “Or no. I don’t know.” My fingers run through my hair, a physical expression of my confusion.

He scoots closer to me and places a hand on my knee. “You don’t have to do it. Not just because my depressed ass is feeling insecure.”

I sigh unintendedly. “Oh, you have such an amazing ass.”

The smallest of chuckles leaves his lips, not quite reaching his eyes, but lighting up the mood nonetheless. “It is a really good ass, huh?” His question is rhetorical, so I don’t bother in replying. “My trainer has an obsession with giving me leg and butt workouts. It’s so annoying.”

An unintelligible noise comes from my mouth as a form of agreement. “Bitch, isn’t leg day the worst day in the history of days?!”

For a moment we forget about the issue at hand, about all our repressed desires, and direct our conversation to exercises and workouts we like to do the most and those we simply can’t stand. He tells me stories about sore muscles not letting him drive back home, and I share how my flexibility comes in handy for the use of certain machines. He asks me about yoga and the power it has over weight loss, and I point out all the different energies that come into play. Before we know it, the clock on the wall is about to reach the number twelve. The dark embracing the city outside confirms it’s not precisely noon.

“Okay, okay, truth or dare?”

This is about the third time he brings the game back up, even when I’ve told him I’m so over it. Doing it again would be pointless. It's better to simply go with the flow. I do want to think about my answer, though. I’m not sure if we can stand jumping back into revealing our deepest thoughts and feelings. To switch things up a little, I pick dare. Luckily, I am rewarded with a simple task of doing fifteen push ups, which I do with no problem. 

I sit back down wiping the sweat off my forehead with my forearm. “Now, it’s my turn. Truth or dare?”

He takes a moment to pick, most likely going through the same mental process I did a moment ago. Unlike me, though, he choses truth.

“What is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you at the gym?”

“Oh, oh! You are never going to believe this.” His hands fly in the air as something closer to excitement fills his features. “I threw up while squatting!”

The loud laughter that takes over my body doesn’t ask for permission to come out. “Wha-what?”

“Oh, bitch. Lemme tell you. I had a bar on my shoulders. You know on that thing with, like, rails at the end so you don’t rock back and forth.” His explanation comes out more like a question, almost checking if I know what he’s talking about.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, a Smith machine.”

“Well, I was on that thing with waaaay too much weight. Thinking ‘oh, yeah, I’m a fucking skinny legend. I can totally do this.’ No, bitch! Turns out..."

“You couldn’t!”

“I couldn’t. Every time I went back up I felt like the air was burning my lungs and I just couldn’t breathe. Of course, I was fucking determined to finish the set. And then, on the last one, I went down and, as soon as I tried to stretch my knees again, gross vomit everywhere.”

There’s nothing I can do to stop my laughter. My feet kick the air but he remains serious. His hands are extended in front of him, motioning where the vomit landed. He stays frozen like that, his face motionless. A complete contrast of my extremities flailing all over the place. There’s a scream-like laugh coming from him as he becomes unfrozen and throws himself back on the couch.

“What’s yours?” he asks, pushing a piece of gum into his mouth. Where did the other one go? Did I swallow it when we kissed? I don’t think I did.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I have no shame, nothing is really embarrassing for me.”

“Oh, c’mon. There must be something that made you at least uncomfortable.”

I shake my head no, my bottom lip popping out as I think. His eyes immediately glue to my pouting lips, but I try not to make too much of it, to ignore the burning feeling of his intense stare.

Suddenly a memory hits me. “Oh! Oh! Bitch! Oh! Okay, so this one time, I had… oh… I had mixed so many ‘uppers’ that I couldn’t contain myself. You know I’m naturally hyperactive, with all that shit in my system I was uncontrollable. So I figured I could exhaust my body, or at least sweat out all the chemicals, so I went to the gym.”

“What time was this?” he asks, an amused smile painted on his features.

My face contorts as I pretend to remember. “Maybe like two in the morning? I don’t know. It was late.”

“Was the gym opened?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was the one on Sunset. That’s opened twenty-four hours.”

“Okay.”

Small chuckles suddenly lace my speech as more memories reach my mind. “I was wearing a wig. Bitch, I was wearing a wig!” That last statement is more to myself, even when my hand is slapping his leg. “No make up, no dress, no nothing, just a stupid wig. Wait, I think I put on a little make up. Can’t remember. There was this guy. Oh, my god. He was so hot. So hot.” I get a hold of Brian’s arm and squeeze hard, trying to physically express just how much I mean my words. “There was nobody around so we took our little personal work out to the bathroom. He had such a beautiful dick. Oh, I could have sucked him for hours. Hours!” The images filling my mind are making my mouth water. “Just when he’s about to come, some dumb bitch decides to walk in on us.”

He gasps exaggeratedly. “The nerve!”

“Right?!” That’s when I notice his sarcasm and realize he’s so not into my story. “Anyways. He freaks out, wig flies into the urinal, cum falls on my eye, I’m blind, we get banned from the gym.” I shrug, ending my story as quickly as possible so he doesn’t have to endure my rambling anymore.

Just as I’d predicted, he is not interested in the tale and dwells on the smallest of details. “What type of wig was it?”

“What?”

“You were working out, it couldn’t have been a big one. Was it in a ponytail?” He is lost in thought, not really talking to me, but trying to put the pieces together.

“Bitch, what does it even matter?”

His eyes finally meet mine. “I’m just trying to figure out how you could get a trick with just a wig.”

“Oh, Momma. Don’t you ever doubt my seductive skills.”

A side smile takes over his lips as an idea dawns on him. “Okay, truth or dare? Dare? Perfect.” Once again he talks to himself, not waiting for me to answer his questions. “I dare you to seduce me with nothing but a wig on and minimal makeup.”

Excitedly, I start jumping on my seat. “Oh, you are on, you stupid cunt.”

His head bobs side to side as his infamous Ru’s impersonation takes over. “Katya, you have five minutes to get into quick drag and give me... a boner. Go!” His index fingers indicate my time has started running and I can do nothing but bolt to my room to get ready.


	9. Nine

**Chapter 9**

My finger twists at the end of the wig, perfecting one of the locks. The blonde synthetic hair falls around my shoulders, it goes straight about halfway and ends in delicate curls. The long bangs bounce as the fake lashes hit it when I blink. I choose black glue to put those on so I can save time on eyeliner.

My lips are blood red, no lip liner to define them, yet they still look full, and the light coat of gloss I put on top is hopefully enough to make them irresistible. A couple rushed strokes of the brush against my cheeks provide the necessary blush to give contrast to my white skin, which looks even whiter thanks to the layer of foundation I applied with my bare fingers.

Just when I’m about to exit the room, I rush back to the mirror, finding a brown pencil that I’m not sure if it’s for eyes or lips, and push it against my eyebrows, simply to fill in the empty space I know he hates to see.

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova.” Even when doing his lame attempt to impersonate RuPaul, my full name leaving Brian’s lips, in such an accurate pronunciation, makes my heart skip a beat. Because I know he’s tried. He’s spent minutes, hours, days, asking me to repeat it over and over again, telling me to correct what he’s not saying properly, until he got it right. That shows me just how much he cares. “The time has come… for you to lipsync… for - my - pants!”

I laugh hysterically, still hiding behind the opened door of my room. Once I’m able to compose myself I take the phone out of my pocket and find the perfect song for this moment. The slow music fills the room as I brave myself to start one of the most important performances of my life.

One of my hairy legs exits the room first. Oh, how I wish I could at least have used some padding. The challenge was nothing but a wig and minimal make up, though, and I’m one to always comply with the rules of a challenge. That’s why I’m now walking to him wearing my shorts and graphic t-shirt, my feet adorned by my oldest pair of loyal sandals, and my mug made up looking like a preschool drawing.

The song starts picking up the pace and I can’t help adding some extra swaying to my hips as I reach the center of the living room.

_Every Saturday night I get dressed up to ride for you, baby_  
_Cruising down the street on Hollywood and Vine for you, baby_

He’s still sitting right where I left him; his legs are crossed one on top of the other, and his back is pushed lazily against the back of the couch. He lets the phone fall from his hands and it lands on the empty cushion next to him. His full attention is concentrated on the slow movements of my body.

One of my hands goes up to play with my hair. I toss it up in the air and let it fall on my face. My mouth is slightly opened, allowing me to taste the plastic as the hair gets stuck on my lipgloss.

_I drive fast, wind in my hair, I push you to the limits 'cause I just don't care_

I give my back to him, allowing my hands to roam all over my body. Reaching my ass, I squeeze hard before kneading my own flesh. Taking my time, I bend forward, easily touching my toes but, more importantly, making sure the fabric of my shorts presses in a way that highlights my butt. When I face him again, I am rewarded with the view of his thighs pressing together, most likely trying to hide his starting erection.

_I've got a burning desire for you, baby._  
_I've got a burning desire._  
_(Come on, tell me boy)_

The few steps separating me from him are sharply taken. My feet meet the carpet in sync with the seductive beat of the song.

Other than the music, and my heavy breathing, everything is silent, including him. As much as I want to make funny whimpering sounds, to elicit at least a sound from him, I allow my body to do all the talking.

Standing right in front of him, I bend my body one more time, getting a hold of his ankles and untangling his legs. He spreads them pretty much unconsciously, his back sliding down a little to find a more comfortable position.

Deliberately slow, I make my way up his legs. My hands travel up, touching every inch of his denim covered skin. My palms stop at his knees, finding support as I sensually let my ass go up and down to the rhythm, either of the song or my beating heart, can’t really tell at this point.

Stepping to stand between his open legs, I straighten my back inch by inch, coming face to face with him. His brown eyes are darker than ever, almost black. His hot stare makes the bulge between my own legs grow harder. Thankfully, the music soon offers me some release. Knowing exactly what the lyrics are about to say, I bring my hand to my mouth and give my palm a long lick before putting it inside my shorts.

_I drive fast, radio blares, have to touch myself to pretend you're there._

His eyes grow wide open to my bold moves. I take advantage of his shocked state and sit on his lap. Each one of my knees land flanking his thighs. Taking a hold of his shoulders I start moving my hips back and forth, painfully slow at first but then picking up the pace as the chorus starts again.

_I've got a burning desire for you, baby._

I can feel his hard member against my thigh and, as I look down, I can see the outline of his erection inside the jeans. I can’t help but feel proud of myself. He has said it so, so many times; he’s a gay man, through and through. He can’t get turned on by a woman. Even the sight of a painted nail kills the mood for him. Yet, here I am, in a rotted wig, a horrible excuse of makeup, worn out boy clothes, and his body is reacting, nonetheless.

From that moment on, I don’t even have to think about it. I allow the music to fill my ears as my mind goes blank. My head tilts to the side, whipping my hair away from my face. My neck is fully exposed to him, and that’s when he can’t take it anymore. Next thing I know, his hot lips are on my skin and his teeth press hard on a sensitive spot.

My head quickly snaps away from his painful treatment, forcing him to find my stare. Our eyes communicate in the only paralingual way we understand. Lana has stopped singing and, by now, only the final notes can be heard. When the song reaches its end, so does my patience and I take his lips in a heated kiss.


	10. Ten

***Chapter notes***  
_This story was supposed to be a try-out, just a random thought that came to me in the middle of an ordinary day and forced me to exit it from my brain in the best way I could. I wanted to write maybe five short chapters, but all your amazing comments inspired me to fully give myself into the story. So here, have this chapter written more or less in the way that I’m used to. I have no idea how the rest will present themselves but, for the time being, I’m forgetting my own rule of compacting everything I want to say in something around 1k words._  
_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 10**

It feels like I’m flying yet, at the same time, my whole body is pinned against Brian’s.

His hands go up and down my back. Even through my t-shirt, I can still feel the electroshocks running through my skin. Everything is just so electrifying. There is no other way to describe it. This moment rejects all laws of physics. Not even Newton could explain the gravity force that Brian’s lips have over mine.

Apparently, I had my phone on repeat because Lana del Rey starts singing the sensual song again as soon as it ends. The soft tune coming from my pocket, and the loud smacking of lips crashing against each other, provide the most beautiful symphony I have ever heard. Until a soft moan escapes his lips and dies inside my mouth, that is. This is a real moan, not the type he exaggerates whenever he tries to embody a turned on woman. This is the real him. Listening to that sound for the first time, and knowing that I’m the cause of such beautiful expression, makes me feel like I could touch the sun with my bare fingers.

My hips never stop moving, going back and forth, grinding against his crotch, and increasing the pace with every touch of our lips. Something primitive, almost animalistic, takes over me. I want - no, I need more of him. I need to feel him whole.

Oxygen is the only excuse why I part my mouth from his. We are panting, our chests rise and fall erratically. My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it might break out of my ribcage. I have to look down, to make sure the cartoonish outline of my heart is not visibly pulsing through my clothes. My eyes land somewhere else, though.

“Can I touch you?” My voice comes from a deep place at the back of my throat, one that I don’t think I have ever explored before.

The slightest of nods from his head is all I need to have my fingers working the belt around his hips. As soon as his fly is open, I dig for my prize inside his underwear. I have seen him naked before, many times. I have seen pictures of his fully erect member, helping him pick one to send to someone else. I have playfully placed my hand on his crotch, and I have made endless jokes about how much I wish I could have him in my hand, and mouth, anywhere really. But nothing compares to this moment. Nothing. Not a single figment of my wildest dreams could have ever come near to the experience of actually having Brian fucking Firkus’ dick in my hand.

It’s big… bigger than the perception I had of it. My fingers wrap around its thickness and immediately start pumping him. I’m going fast, I know, and he lets me know it’s working by biting my shoulder. His heavy breathing moves to my ear. Hot air hits my already burning skin with every movement of my hand. 

I need more.

Jumping off of him, I kneel between his open legs. What comes next, I wasn’t expecting. He starts laughing. His laughter is loud, completely drowning the music that is still coming from my pocket.

“What?” I ask breathlessly, taking the phone out and stopping the song. “What’s so funny?” I’m starting to chuckle myself, his contagious amusement getting to me.

“Bianca has nothing on you, you stupid clown.”

It takes a moment but then I understand. The screwed up makeup that I had on is probably a complete fucking mess by now. Judging by the red stains all over his face, and his comment, my lipstick is probably smeared around my lips.

With a gentle hand, he pulls my wig off and throws it on the floor beside the couch. He is done with the woman fantasy. Still, he’s not ready for our game to finish. My eyes are absolutely drawn to his, there is something invading them that I can’t describe. It’s a mixture of want and desire with love and care. Hints of desperation and expectation seem to appear as well, and there is something there that I can almost point out as fear. As I try to decipher those endless pools of chocolate, I almost miss his whisper asking me to go back up.

He stretches his body to reach the coffee table and fishes for a clean napkin. It takes him several tries since pretty much all of them are covered by the grease he removed before eating the slices of pizza; such a pointless maneuver that he still can’t stop himself from doing.

I see what he wants to do. I stop his hand just when the tip of the napkin reaches my face. “Give me two minutes.”

Bolting out of the room, I make my way to the bathroom. The cold water feels refreshing as I splash it on my face. In all honesty, this is the last thing I need. Reasoning and consciousness are not welcome at the moment. I want every single one of my senses to be drunk on the magic that Brian represents. I don’t want to feel anything else but his hot skin so close to mine that we lose awareness of where my flesh ends and his begins. Yet, as the soap bubbles wash away the few traces of womanhood left in me, so does every illusion that what we are about to do is right. Not even an hour ago he was breaking my heart into a million pieces.

I see my reflexion in the mirror. I am completely a man now. The gender he prefers, yet, my physical parts are not enough for him. He doesn’t want me, or does he? I need to think about what just happened in my living room. That was real. He’s reacted to me, dressed as a woman, a thing that he has sworn time and time again was never going to happen. There’s a chance he has responded to me, to _me_. There’s a chance he has responded to this wrinkled old balding man. Now I really see myself on the mirror. Better yet, I inspect the shell I carry around my soul in the form of a body. The same body that has been ready to be taken by him for years now, centuries probably, because there is no doubt in me that our corporalities were astrally designed to be merged into one. My heart is the unsure one this time, and my mind is overanalyzing every single possible outcome. These uncertainties shock and scare me. I had never been this conscious about sex before. I knew that stopping doing meth was going to bring me trouble!

A small laugh comes out. My stupid mind is going places it shouldn’t instead of letting my instincts to take over so I can follow my gut. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I need to return to that room and let the flow guide me through the situation. The moment will manifest itself. 

I step out of the bathroom with a blank psyche. The right answer is placed in front of me the moment I reenter the living room. I find Brian on the same spot where I left him. This time, though, he is displaying quite possibly the most erotic image I have ever seen. No amount of pornography videos or books can come near this beautiful piece of art.

With his eyes closed, he is running a hand slowly up and down himself. His mouth is opened, forming a distorted O, and his tongue darts out, licking his lips for only a second before getting back to its place. He’s fully clothed, only his penis sticks out from his open pants, and yet he has never looked sexier to me.

My hand finds the switch on the wall and I turn off the lights, nothing but the silver rays of moonlight, entering through the window, is illuminating the room.

His eyes flutter open in surprise. It takes them a moment to focus again and, once they do, they seem to pierce right into my soul. His hand slows down the pace but doesn’t stop.

I walk to him and sit on the far end of the couch. He adjusts himself to be facing me, our backs settle against each of the armrests. Without even thinking about it, my hand reaches for the waistband of my shorts and I pull them down just enough to release my semi-erect member. My own hand circles my arousal and, wasting no time, I start caressing myself. My pace increases and so does his.

Our eyes are locked as we pleasure ourselves. This is a dangerous game, but I’m playing to win. What prize am I trying to win? I have no idea. All I know is that, with my stare travelling between his gorgeous features, distorted in pleasure, and his hand circling his length over and over, I’m already close to reach my climax. 

The air between us is filled with small moans and whispers escaping our mouths. The sounds exuding his body are like a beautiful composition of erotic instruments, playing just for my pleasure. And, fuck, are they working. 

His head shoots back. He’s probably close, but not seeing his face is completely unacceptable. “Look at me,” I command more than ask. 

He complies. He faces me once again. His eyelids struggle to stay open but he concentrates every fiber of his body to maintain our eye contact. He bites his lower lip, preventing a scream from coming out. His moaning becomes louder and louder. It’s so fucking hot. Oh, I wish I could record that sensual melody and set it as my ringtone.

“Oh, Brian!”

Okay, now, my name falling from his lips, laced with nothing but pleasure, is surely the sexiest thing that has ever graced my ears.

Suddenly, he’s repeating my name over and over, like a mantra, like a plea. As if the only thing keeping him grounded to this earthly world is my name. But I need him to let go, I need him to reach the stellar level of ecstasy that I’m about to achieve.

Then I see it. He’s shaking in his seat as an earth shattering orgasm takes over him. That’s all it takes. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, his mouth wide open, crying out my name, it’s all it takes. Soon, I feel the warm liquid covering my hand. A sigh, that I hadn’t even noticed I was holding, leaves my lips and I don’t think I have ever felt more at peace in my entire life.


	11. Eleven

**Chapter 11**

The room smells like sex.

The room smells like poetry.

I close my eyes and allow the moment to take over me. There’s something vulgar yet beautiful about the aftermath of our… what the fuck did we just do? I don’t think it has a name. We didn’t particularly have sex. Technically, we didn’t even touch each other. Then why do I feel as if every inch of my body has been caressed by his hands?

Brian’s breathing comes back down. With my eyes still closed I sense him getting up and leaving the room. The next thing I know, he’s placing paper tissues on my lap. It’s time to get cleaned. I blindly do so and move the waistband back up.

As soon as I open my eyes, I spot him towering over me. He’s looking at me, trying to focus on my face in the poorly lit room. I probably look paler than ever with nothing but the moonlight hitting my face. Plus, I feel like any trace of life has been drained from me by my orgasm. It was so fucking good.

There’s a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he sits down on the floor next to me.

“You know when you are watching porn, and you are so into it that everything looks so hot and sexy, then you cum and, when you see the screen again, everything is gross and nasty?”

My laughter breaks the quiet atmosphere, because even his voice hadn’t come out higher than a whisper. “Yeah,” I agree but, immediately, I’m invaded by fear. “Is that how you feel now?”

Is my beautiful, sexy, vulgar, poetic act nothing but nasty and gross porn to him?

“No,” he says with the small smile still on his lips. “I feel like I should, but I don’t.” His hand goes up and rests on my stomach. “I actually liked it. I liked it a lot.”

My fingers find his, getting tangled more than intertwined. “Me too.” My smile is genuine, and much bigger than his. “I had never done…” My brain rakes for a term to call what just happened, coming out empty. “Had never done that before.”

“Oh, wow. Really?”

I nod my head, partly wondering why he’s acting so surprised. As if he could read my mind, he offers an explanation right away.

“I’m just so used to thinking you have done pretty much everything sexwise. It’s nice to know I can be your first at something.”

There has always been an idea, but it isn’t up until this moment that I realize just how powerful his grip on my heart is. He holds the power to pull so many strings in my heart - and a few other parts of my body - to make me dance like a marionette. I most certainly feel like dancing right now. His words hit me harder than any love confession I have ever received.

Taking advantage of his hand in mine, I bring his knuckles to my lips and kiss them, each knuckle at a time, tenderly thanking him for his words. He has a different idea, though. He extends his index finger out and places it in front of my lips. We have done this before. I have done this before. This is not the time to suck on his fingers, not when it’s no longer a joke, not when I could very easily be sucking a different extremity right now. The rational part of my brain kicks in first and, with a reassuring smile on my face, I kiss the tip of his fingernail instead. He seems surprisingly pleased. He surely wasn’t expecting that response, but is satisfied with the outcome.

The moon is showering his figure with silver light, embracing his aura and making him look almost angelic. The sweet smile on his lips being the final touch in the almost god-like scene. My fingers itch for some reason. It’s an itch that I can only get rid of if I caress his face, that lovely face of his. I have to refrain myself from doing so. It could be just the afterglow of our orgasms, but I don’t feel like moving, in any way, to disrupt such a perfect mood.

“So you had never done this before.” His words come out more like a question than a statement. His speech is still low and slow, almost as if Brian has the same fear of breaking the beauty of the situation. “Truth or dare? Please, pick truth.”

There is absolutely nothing I can do but comply with this request and allow him to shoot me one more question. I have long since given up on making him stop the stupid game, mainly because I have concluded that this is just his excuse to ask me to reveal stuff or do shit we normally wouldn’t. I’m okay with that. I don’t think I would have given him a lap dance if he hadn’t dared me to. That’s a lie. Of course, I would have.

“What is your magic number?”

“Excuse me?” Part of me is playing it dumb, but, for the most part, I believe my own brain is playing dumb on me so I don’t fully understand what he’s asking.

He reforms the question. “How many guys have you slept with? Or people. Wait. No. You said you have never been with a woman, right? So how many guys have you slept with?”

I have to laugh. He seems to have caught some of my verbal diarrhea. Out of all my signature traits, that’s the one he picks to imitate. Our joined hands bounce as my stomach goes up and down with laughter. Nobody minds.

His eyes travel all over my face, which probably looks horrible now contorted with laughter. Still, he studies me intensely. The corner of his lips move all the way up to finally form an actual smile. That takes me out of my giggle fit. A sigh escapes my mouth without asking my permission. I’m not sure if he’s ready to know the answer to that. He has already stated, more than once, just tonight, that he is fully aware of the vigorous sexual life I have. He has even been present as I take a guy back to my dressing room while on tour. Sometimes there is more than one guy. The reality of the number could be surprising, though. And I don’t want his idea of me to change. He may never see me the same way again once it completely dawns on him just how big of a slut I am.

“No judgement.” Now it’s my turn to twist a statement into a question.

He shakes his head. Of course he won’t judge me. He never has and I doubt he ever will. But I have to give him some kind of warning. Let him know that I am not particularly proud of what I’m about to say. I don’t regret a thing, no ma’am, but it could easily be frowned upon.

Another sigh leaves my body, louder and heavier than the last one. “When the number went above a hundred, I decided it was pointless to even keep count. And that was many, many years ago.”

There it is. My fears are confirmed with the change in his features. The angelical, almost majestic, creature bathed in moonlight is gone. Now, there’s a shocked and scared mortal who is having issues comprehending the reality of my words.

“I know, I know. It’s a lot. I just really, really love sex. Fuck, I love sex. A lot.”

He knows that, I don’t have to say it. For some reason, I feel like pointing it out as a way of an excuse, maybe. There is no change in his expression, though. His jaw still proves unable to be picked up from the floor. His eyes won’t reduce in size any time soon, either.

“What’s yours?”

Maybe I’m just trying to turn the tables and put him on the spot as well, but I know it will only make me look more like a slut as soon as he answers. If he even does, that is.

My words seem to unfreeze him because he shakes his head right after, unfortunately, his hand is extracted from mine as well. “Oh, bitch, nowhere near that.”

He gets up and sits across from me, picking his phone up once again. I’ve lost his attention.


	12. Twelve

**Chapter 12**

The fluorescent light that comes from the phone, and bounces off of Brian’s face, gives him a completely different aura than the moonlight has done just moments ago. The frown taking over his features is a far cry from the relaxed expression I just saw, as well.

Nothing seems to be really waiting for him on the other side of the screen. He is simply scrolling through what seems to be Twitter, not caring much about what it has to offer. Maybe because it’s so late at night, or is it early in the morning? After twelve it is considered already morning, right? I’d like to think it’s morning once the sun is up, but that time changes constantly; and I do say things like ‘two in the morning’. Why am I fooling myself?

Brian’s laughter takes me out of my tangled mess of pointless thoughts. It is loud and spontaneous. He’s probably found a funny meme or video. As glad as I am to see this little token of happiness, I can’t help the pain of knowing I am not the cause of that. The only reason why we work so well together is because I make it my goal to make him laugh, no matter the place or situation. If I manage to make him laugh, then I know that whatever it is that I’m doing is working. At some point during our work relationship he has brought up the same idea. The only difference is that it doesn’t really take much for me to laugh hysterically. He, particularly, has a way to tickle my funny bone. Which leads me to spiral back down to the premise of our relationship: just two lonely people trying to make the other one happy.

Right this instant, I’m not doing so. The internet and its infinite content has taken over my life long mission and doing a much better job than I could ever do.

What I need is a cigarette.

Even if this is my own home, I know he dislikes the smoke, so I wordlessly get up and walk to the window at the other end of the room. My pack of cancer sticks and loyal lighter are lovingly waiting for me on the small table. 

I jump on the chair specifically placed here for this type of occasions. My legs cross in a lotus position as I bring the cigarette to my mouth. The wind feels cool against my hot skin, and just now do I notice how sweaty I am. Granted, I’m sweating more often than not, causing my senses to kind of neglect the feeling and classify it as a normal state of my body. The late night, or early morning, breeze is more than welcomed, not just to ease the burning of my skin, but to calm the insane highway of thoughts that is my mind.

I like to picture my head as a birdcage. It’s a really big cage, and the metal decorations are distressed intricate patterns. There is no lock on this cage, the door is always open, allowing thoughts to go in and out as they please. They can stay in there for as long as they want to, and leave when they feel like it. Most of the time there are too many of them inside and, no matter how big the cage is, there's simply not enough room for all of them. Occasionally, they all want to get the fuck out of there at the same time. They crash against each other, kicking and pushing their way out, and preventing any of them from actually having a chance to leave.

Smoking calms the birds down. They settle down and allow me to pick one at the time, analyze it, and decide if I really need it here or if I should let if fly freely. That’s exactly what I’m doing right now. The birds are mostly grey, black, or red, and I’ve learned to associate every color to an emotion. There used to be blue ones, but those haven’t visited in a while.

A big pink bird is perched at the very top of the cage, though. It took residency there a few years ago and never really left, and I don’t want it to. Its presence is not always the strongest one, but it is always there. I would like to believe that it silently guides my every move, but, sometimes, it actually dictates them.

There’s a burning sensation between my fingers, letting me know I have smoked the entire cigarette without noticing. I smash the butt against the ashtray on the table next to me and stare out the window. 

The sky is dark, pitch black, without a single star shining. Other than the full moon, the lights from the city are drowning any astral projection that could possibly make it through the thick clouds. I picture my thoughts, calmed now thanks to the cigarette and the meditation, slowly flying away into the darkness.

Suddenly, the voice of the whitest valley girl comes from behind me. “So, I noticed you’re not on your phone much.”

The quietness of the room is instantly broken as memories start to hit me and I can’t help laughing out loud.

His arms snake from behind me and his hands come to rest on my chest. His chin is forcefully pressed on my shoulder, making his voice resound directly against my ear. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Answering him is simple, because I’m not. I don’t think I have ever truly been mad at him. “Are you mad at me?” I ask back in the same tone he used.

His lips are pressed to my cheek. ”No,” he speaks against my skin. “You know I love you, right?” He lets out between kisses. 

I nod, partly because the feeling of his mouth all over my face is making it hard to concentrate.

“I do love you,” he continues. “I love you so much.”

My head turns to face him, forcing his lips to separate from my cheek. That’s when I notice he is hunched behind me, staying in the uncomfortable position just to be able to reach my face. I turn around and kneel on the chair, doing my best to be at his eye level but still not reaching higher than his shoulders.

Both my hands come to rest on each side of his face, holding him in place so he can look me in the eye. “I love you, too. I love you so much it hurts my vagina.”

The smile that adorns his lips is the most endearing. “Does this mean I’m about to send you home now?”

Ugh! Why does he have to be such a Drag Race fan that he remembers every line ever said on the goddamn show, including mine?! 

“You have always been my favorite person in the world.” I have no problem admitting as much. Saying it is not even needed, I believe. My actions should be more than enough to let him know what my true feelings are.

He leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. “I’m sorry things have to be so complicated between us. I wish we could just be.” He sighs heavily, exhaling regret and burden.

“I don’t. I’m not sorry. I like the way we are. It’s entertaining. I like that we are just a couple of fuck-tards who have no control over anything but still ride the waves as they hit them. And there is no one in this world I would rather ride them with.”

“I just… Why can’t things just work out for once?”

The scoff that loudly comes out through my nose is unintended, and he doesn’t take offense on it or my rolled eyes. “Because the world is what it is, not what we want it to be.”

He takes my hands off his face, lacing his fingers with mine. “In an ideal world, I wouldn’t have been afraid, I wouldn’t have let the fear of rejection stop me from acting on my true feelings. Now, we are too deep into this friendship, and I would hate myself if I ruin something so beautiful.”

My eyes close as I follow his train of thoughts. “In an ideal world, we wouldn’t be invaded with preconceived notions of how the world works and we would make the rules as we go.” I open my eyes, just to find his staring right into my soul. “In an ideal world, I could do this…” Ever so softly, I press my lips against his for just a second. “Without it being the punchline of a joke, or a trick for the audience.”

He nods before chasing after my lips and stealing one more quick kiss. “In an ideal world, you and I would be together as lovers, not friends.”

“In an ideal world, we would be together as lovers and friends.”


	13. Thirteen

***Chapter notes***   
_Let’s see if I can pull this off._

**Chapter 13**

I don’t think it fully registers in my brain who leans in first. All I know is that my lips are now connected with Brian’s. Again.

It’s the softest of touch, almost tentative, asking for permission. We both purse our lips and they meet for a moment. Then we do it once more. It’s quick and innocent. We simply share small pecks, barely making any contact.

The beating of my heart increases by the second, and I can feel my whole body pulsing to the rhythm of my bloodstream. It’s hard to believe that something as tiny as this, which can barely be called a kiss, can have such an effect on me. But I have to remind myself of the source of those light touches. This is a man whose only existence can turn me into a big puddle of nothing. My body responds to him without checking in with my brain first. And I’m more than happy to let him reign over my corporality, fully aware that he’s the guiding arrow of my thoughts as well.

His hands go up to caress my face, his thumb runs up and down my cheekbone, a feeling that I am rather used to. Taking advantage of his hold on my head, he pushes me away a little, just enough for our eyes to meet. What I see in those endless pools of feelings is probably only a reflection of my own eyes. He tells me everything I need to know without using any words, because we have reached this point where there’s no need for verbal communication. And, right now, he’s wordlessly telling me that it is about time, that he’s ready to throw every caution away and dive into the dangerous unknown.

As I’m reading the infinite tale of our story in his dilated pupils, his hand finds its way to my neck. In one quick move he has our faces crashing against each other. It hurts. It fucking hurts. There’s a huge chance that my nose is going to bleed but, in full honesty, I don’t give a fuck. If a broken nose is the price I have to pay for this hungered kiss, so be it.

My bottom lip is captured between his lips, and he nibbles on it slightly. Our noses once again bump with each other as he moves my head to the other side, trying to kiss me from a different angle. Not a centimeter of my lips is left untouched. 

I have to do something to catch up with him. My thoughts have already taken too long to register what is really happening. I’m just standing here, letting his mouth do with mine as it pleases.

The reaction of my body comes as a surprise, even to myself. Before I know it, my mouth is fighting his in a sexy battle. I suck his upper lip in, hard, and then run my tongue against it to ease the pain. The sound that comes out of him is pure agony. It’s partly a grunt, partly a moan, yet entirely hot. I swallow his groan, the vibrations making me shiver.

Having a life of their own, my hands go up to wrap around his neck. I straighten my back and pull him towards me, making our upper bodies press together as close as it is humanly possible. His heartbeat resounds hard against mine. I feel the uneven beat against my chest and I wonder if he can feel my own heart beating to the rhythm of his name.

Still lost in the deliciousness of his lips, it suddenly hits me that he’s probably tasting nothing but cigarette smoke and Redbull. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He never has. Or if he had at some point, hopefully he has realized by now that this is me, this is who I am. My mouth is not an exquisite flower garden like his is. 

Everything stops. 

Time stops ticking. 

Mouths stop kissing. 

I don’t deserve him. He’s a beautiful human being, an amazing soul, with a gorgeous body. His mind is like no other. He is smart, and funny, and talented, and the most amazing drag queen I have ever known. My rotted ass doesn’t compare to his transcendental existence, let alone be worthy of his love and affection.

A tear falls from my left eye. I have never, ever loved myself. Yet, he’s been able to see through all my flaws - and there are many of those - and he’s found a version of me that I don’t even know myself. There’s a side of me that is only his. A part of me that never comes to the surface unless he is around. And I like that version better. I like how free I can be when I’m around him. I never really understood why until now. It’s because he loves me. He loves me unconditionally. He loves me for who I am. He loves me, all of me, period. Maybe just as much as I love him.

This realization brings up a brand new desire. I want to thank him. I want to thank him and make him feel just how strong my love for him is.

I step on the chair and launch myself inside his arms. Even when he doesn’t have time to prepare himself, he catches me with ease. My legs wrap around his hips and his hands hold me by the ass. Our faces are only inches apart. He notices my tears and gives me a questioning look. I shake my head with a smile. These are happy tears. He sighs with relief, his heavy breathing hits my neck as he brings me even closer to him.

Any coherent thought I could have had flies out the window as soon as his lips start devouring my neck. He’s biting and kissing, and running his tongue against the already sore skin. I know he’s not a big fan of hickies, he finds them tacky and trashy, yet that is not preventing him from sucking hard on my flesh over and over again. He is fully aware that it’s going to leave a mark. He can get his own name tattooed on my neck with kisses, for all I care. The world may as well know that, even if it’s just for this one night, my body and soul were given to Brian Firkus fully and completely.

I’m not sure if I’m quietly moaning, just for him to hear, or if I’m screaming loud enough for the neighbors to get scared. All I know is that every inch of my skin is on fire and the only way to put out the flames is by becoming one with him.

Either our minds are just that connected, or he’s feeling the same urge because, without stopping the treatment on my neck, he starts moving us in the direction of my room. 

Magic is about to happen.

***End notes***   
_So I dared myself to write a chapter without dialogues, since I’ve always admired the way they can communicate without words, and, well, this was it, did I pull it off?_


	14. Fourteen

***Chapter notes***  
_ Caution: Content may be hot. _

**Chapter 14**

My back lands softly on the mattress. The bed is not made, I never make it. Right about now is a good time to kick myself for it. If I had known that this moment was going to present itself, I would have arranged the sheets and pillows, uncluttered the night stands and replaced all my shit with candles and roses. 

We deserve as much.

Our first time shouldn’t be like this, not in a messy room that stinks of all the sweaty gym laundry I haven’t done.

While my mind is going around the room, mentally picking up everything that is out of place, Brian’s eyes are traveling up and down my body. I feel his stare burning my skin, and I shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, almost as if he is talking to himself. He climbs on top of me, his legs flanking my hips and his hands on each side of my face. “You are so beautiful,” he confirms.

I stretch my neck up and kiss him. My lips proven unable to separate from his, even if it’s just for a moment.

This time, the kiss is slower. We explore each other’s mouths as if this was the first time. I can feel his lips softly pressing against mine before opening and capturing my bottom lip. The move is hot and sensual. He rhythmically starts sucking on it, making me want to have him sucking a completely different part of my body. And I let him know just that. My hips buckle up, grinding against his, letting him know I need him somewhere else.

He gets the hint.

He sits up with a smile and removes his shirt. I do the same, throwing my t-shirt across the room. It hits something and it crashes on the ground with a loud bang. It’s not easy to identify what the hell I just broke but it doesn’t matter, nothing else matters but the man in front of me. 

Sure, he has struggled with his image a lot, never really liking the shape of his own body, but here, in the dark bedroom, illuminated only by the few moonlight rays that make it through the blinds, he is a vision. 

I start tugging at his pants, wanting to see him entirely free of any garment separating us. 

He stands by the foot of the bed, undoing his belt and opening his fly in a fast move. I can’t have him doing that all by himself. Quickly, I step down from the bed and stand right in front of him. He looks down at me with those eyes so dark they are almost black. Holding his stare is that I tuck my index fingers into his waistband and slightly push his jeans and underwear down. Still holding his stare is that I drop down to sit on my heels and pull his clothes the rest of the way down until they are piling at his ankles. The only moment my eyes let go of his is when I close them to the feeling of his tip inside my mouth.

There is no doubt that he is very well endowed, I even felt as much a couple hours ago, yet, his size is surprisingly large for my mouth. I have sucked a lot of dick in my life, a lot, and never has there been one that can’t fit. His won’t be the first one. I won’t allow him to have anything but my all.

I start by leaving a wet trail of kisses, from the base, all the way up to the head of his penis. Fuck, it’s such a marvelous penis.

My mouth circles the tip as my hand takes care of caressing his thighs. The taste of him already has me losing my mind. I have to concentrate every fiber of my body to resist my own want and give him my full attention. I want to pleasure him like nobody has ever done before. I want him to feel just how much I love him. I want to physically make it clear that nobody is going to love him like I do.

Slowly and tenderly, I make him slide in and out of my mouth. My lips and tongue play a teasing game as I envelope and lick him at the same time. I can tell he is liking it by the soft moans and the slight buckle of his hips.

Relaxing my throat and unclenching my jaw, I try to take him in, inch by painful inch. I can taste his pre-cum already dropping on my tongue, which only fuels my determination of savoring his entire length. The need for air makes me take him back out. I let my tongue circle the head as my hand pumps him from the base. He throws his head back and tangles his fingers in my short hair, holding on for dear life. 

My need for more of him is unbearable. My hands land on his buttcheeks and I push him once again inside my mouth. He’s moaning and grunting, little nonsenses escape his lips, which tell me I have taken him to the postverbal point of no return.

The urge must be burning him just as much as it is me because, shortly after, he forcefully starts pumping into my mouth. His thrusts are slow but strong, each push making me gag as it reaches the back of my throat. And I’m loving every second of it. I love the feeling of his muscles contracting under my hands. I can’t help but squeeze his perfect ass as I struggle to keep balance on my heels. The sounds emanating from him do nothing but increase my arousal and inflame my need to have him all the way in.

It takes one more shove of his hips, and a hard push of my hands on his butt, to finally make me reach my goal. My nose is completely pressed against his pelvic area. My cheeks are stretched to their maximum capacity. And my throat is blissfully contracted as the tip of his penis pushes against it.

“Oh, fuck, Brian.” 

He looks down at me, holding my head in place for a couple of seconds before pulling me away from him. The lost of contact already has me whimpering for more.

“How can you be so amazing?”

His words reach my ears as he pulls me up, making our faces crash together and kissing me with a passion unlike never before.

“Please,” I beg against his lips. “Let me fuck you.”

He shakes his head no, but the smile adorning his lips stops me from freaking out. His eyes, once again, tell me everything that I need to know. We are not going to fuck tonight. We are agreeing that what we are about to do is not a random feverish encounter but an act of love.

In a desperate move, I step out of my remaining clothes. Now we are both naked. Our bodies shine with the moonlight in an almost poetic way.

I hug him. I pull him into my embrace knowing that this may be the only chance I have. My cheek is pressed against his chest, allowing me to inhale all that he is. The smell is something unique and unequivocally Brian.

“I love you,” I confess. A true confession this time. Not simple words that come out after he said an extremely funny joke. “I love you, all of you.” Each word is accentuated by a kiss across his chest. “Let me love you.”

With a nod of his head, he climbs on the bed. He drops down to his hands and knees, ready for me to enter him. But this is not what I want. I need to see his face. I need to look right into his eyes as we become one, as my lifelong fantasy turns into reality, as my biggest dream actually becomes tangible.

My hands take hold of his hips as I softly turn him around. His back lands on the mattress, just like mine did minutes ago, and now it’s my turn to observe him, to imprint a perfect map in my brain of every curve of his body. The more I see him, the more it sinks in that there is not a single aspect of him that I don’t like. There’s not a single inch of his body that I don’t want to worship. There is not a single component of the masterpiece that is Brian Firkus that I don’t love. He’s simply beautiful.

Fully aware that we don’t have protection, I make a quick trip around the bed, kissing him softly on the lips, before finding the drawer containing everything we need to actually make this happen. It takes me a bit more than a minute to get ready, yet a part of me is afraid those seconds can be enough to sober him up and regret what we are doing. Thankfully, it doesn’t happen. As I position myself back between his open legs, the smile is still pasted on his lips.

I would like to believe that I’m a good top. That I am careful enough to make sure my partner is comfortable before doing anything. 

Leaning forward, I kiss his chest a couple of times before looking at him straight in the eye. “I’m going in now, okay?

His head pushes against the pillows as he readies himself for me. My hand guides my member to his entrance, letting only a small part going in and checking his reaction. His eyes are heavy with desire. His stare is piercing mine and doesn’t let go as I make my way inside him. He bites his lower lip, a useless attempt to stay quiet, because a grunt escapes his mouth anyway. Slowly, I push deeper inside him, inch by inch, until he takes me in completely. And I don’t think I have ever felt more at home before. This is where I belong.


	15. Fifteen

***Chapter Notes***   
_Well, this is it. We have reached the end of this crazy ride.  I have no way to thank you for all the love and support you have given me and this story. Being a new author in a fandom is hard, but I have felt nothing but welcomed._   
_Do not worry, you will most likely still see me around. I am already working on a few other stories. And I’m also taking requests, so if you have an idea that want to see materialize, let me know and we can make it come to life. You can always find me on all social media as DenDenMonMon. Thanks to those who have contacted me either on Twitter or IG, you guys even made me come back to Tumblr after literal years of being away lol_   
_The notes are almost done, just a few more thanks are in order. A million thanks to all of those who took the time to read and comment, just knowing that at least one person was getting a smile on their face because of my writing, meant the world to me. Special shout out to everybody that helped me beta, even when my annoying ass wouldn’t take their suggestions or put all the commas back when they had just removed them lol You seriously have no idea how many hands had to touch each chapter before it actually got posted. They are the true heroes._   
_Hopefully all the hard work paid off and you were able to enjoy a somewhat decent story :)_

**Chapter 15**

I have woken up inside of Brian’s arms many times before, but never naked, and never this sore.

The sun is fully up and its rays hit me forcefully on the face, making me grunt in disagreement. I don’t wanna move; I don’t want to leave the wonderful shelter of his arms. He’s hugging me from behind. I can feel his even breathing on my neck. His chest is pressed against my back, and his morning wood against my ass.

Not even thinking about it, I start moving my hips against him, letting my butt rub against his semi-erect member.

His hot breath hits my ear as it suddenly loses the steady rhythm of his sleep. It feels good to be able to work him up so easily. I reach down, with the full intention to caress him, feeling proud of myself. Even without him being conscious, his body is reacting to me. Wait, what? He’s not conscious. What am I even doing?

My hand drops immediately and I absolutely hate myself. I can’t believe I was about to take advantage of him like this. Gross.

As I’m internally slapping myself for such nasty thoughts, his lips find my nape. “Why did you stop?” he asks against my skin, making me shiver.

I try to turn around, but his arms wrap tighter around me, keeping me in place. 

“I thought you were asleep,” I answer. Or at least that’s what I think I said, because the feeling of his lips kissing my neck nonstop makes it really hard to concentrate.

Soon his hand does what mine couldn’t. I feel his fingers trace small circles around my stomach on its way down. My eyes close at the sensation of such light touches, until he gets a good grip of me. His strokes are slow, his hand is soft and warm. Between the feeling of his hand pumping me, and his own erection rubbing my ass, I’m in a state of celestial bliss.

Taking advantage of the moment, I finally turn in his arm, facing him completely. He kisses my lips ever so tenderly.

“Do you have any regrets?” The words leave my mouth on their own accord. “About last night,” I clarify, the question dawning down on me at the same time I’m pronouncing it.

He looks at me straight in the eye, blank and expressionless stare. “Yes,” he says in a somber tone. “That I didn’t get to do this.”

His eyes leave mine and I already feel lost, but there’s a more than valid reason. I see the top of his head traveling down my body, marking my skin with butterfly kisses until he finds his prize. His mouth is hot around me. His tongue expertly goes up and down my length, sending electroshocks all throughout my body.

Time seems to completely stop just for the two of us. Nothing else exists. There’s nothing but emptiness around me. There’s no other sound reaching my ears but the wet noises of his magnificent lips sucking me. There’s nothing I can feel but his hands on my chest and the beating of my own heart. All of those are intricate pieces that perfectly come together to create the most sensual puzzle. We fit perfectly together.

It doesn’t take long for me to start begging him to push me over the edge. His name falls from my lips between moans and groans of pure pleasure.

_Brian._

_Oh._

_Brian._

_Brian._

_Oh._

_Trixie._

That does it, for both of us. I don’t even notice his free hand is woking himself simultaneously until we both cum a few seconds apart. My release is found in his mouth, and he fearlessly licks me clean, taking all of me without hesitation. Then I feel him wiping his hand on my sheet, probably getting rid of his own orgasm.

In the same way he went down on me, is that he finds his way back up. My body is scanned by his lips, probably creating the same map I did of his every curve. I’m more than willing to let him do so, to allow him to burn the memory of my skin into his brain. Because I wish to do the same, I want to immortalize the shape of his body into my mind’s eyes, just so I can see him every time I want to. If I could I would freeze this moment forever. 

Wait. 

Oh, bitch. 

I actually can.

Despite the moan of protest, and the confused look on Brian’s face, I get out of the bed. Clothes are scattered everywhere, so it takes me a moment to find my phone in the pocket of my shorts.The battery is about to die, since I usually charge it through the night, but we still have a couple of minutes.

I go back to lie right next to him, and he understands what I want to do. His arms wrap around me and he nuzzles my neck. The soft smile adorning his lips is a complete contrast of my wide open-mouthed one. I open the camera, pick the black and white filter, and snap a couple of pictures. There. This moment has been officially captured for eternity.

“I love you,” he says in a low whisper.

My finger switch the camera to video and I record him kissing my jaw.

“What did you just say?” The amusement in my voice is evident.

Either he’s too distracted to notice or doesn’t care, because he has no issues repeating himself. “I love you. I love your loose old skin and your smokers breath.”

My laughter is loud and hysterical. My arms flail uncontrollably, making the camera go everywhere without focusing on anything in specific. He takes the phone from my hand and talks to the camera. 

“You see what I have to deal with? You have any idea how lucky you are that I love you?!” A loud ding makes him stop his rant. “Why is Ron texting you?” he asks, suddenly freaking out. “Brian, what time is it?”

There’s no way for me to answer when he has my phone in his hand. He checks it himself and, turns out, we are extremely late for recording.

We scramble our way around the room, picking up our clothes and getting ready as fast as we can. The rush and adrenaline is enough to keep us away from overthinking what happened the night before, and this morning. I have a bag to pack and he shaves as I do so. We take turns in the shower and there is nothing sexual about us running naked around each other as we try to gather everything we need.

Awkward morning after be damned!

It isn’t until we are in the Uber, on our way to his house to get his stuff, that the reality of it all hits me completely. We have crossed a line, a line that we can’t go back from. And I don’t want to.

As if he could read my mind, his arm finds a way around my shoulders, bringing me closer and kissing the top of my head. The warmth of his body envelopes me and I feel a certain peace that can’t be provided by anything else but his love. In that moment I realize there’s nothing to worry about. We have so much stuff to figure out, a lot of shit to talk about and sort out, but not now. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that we can make things work, as long as we have each other, everything will work out just fine.

I stretch my neck and kiss his cheek. “Hey, Brian,” I say in a whisper, my voice almost unrecognizable to my own ears. “Do you think we are getting kidnapped?”

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written:  
> April 26th, 2019 - June 3rd, 2019.


End file.
